


Perspective

by Plinicahat



Category: Everyman HYBRID, Slender Man Mythos, Slenderblogs, Tribe Twelve
Genre: ARG, Character Death, Mild Gore, Multi, Other, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plinicahat/pseuds/Plinicahat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it can bleed, it can die.<br/>It is frustrating, though, when there's no immediate way to make it bleed.<br/>On top of that there had been tampering, alterations and additions. So maybe, this time at least, it can end differently.<br/>Maybe it can end better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Door is Broken Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now you're a bit stuck

Its first instinct when a strange, small woman knocked on its door asking for a 'Mr Habit,' was to welcome her in with open arms, accommodate her, find out how it could help, and then slit her throat. Nobody should know where it was.  
Its tiered plan on dealing with this peculiar lady halted far sooner than it would have liked. It let her in, playing the role of concerned citizen, asking if she wanted a drink, something to eat because gosh she looked pale didn't she?  
She made a point of demanding it to stop his faux hospitality almost as soon as it extended it. Seeming very aware of the act and stating that its knife hand looked a little itchy immediately. The harsh laugh she received didn't faze her either.  
As it pulled out a seat with the resolve to ask her more questions she got right down to answering.  
“Somebody called Firebrand, or something stupid like that, told me to come to you. It said it would be 'a helpful move to make'.”  
She gave a shrug before waiting. With a gaze that crept around the room it seemed she didn't know what she was waiting for either.  
“Oh,” she chimed, “It also called you a 'loathsome entity' or something to that effect.”  
It found the decision hard, looking at the blades arranged on the table off to the side and deciding which one would be best suited for cutting the beginnings of coy smile off of her face. Though, it was always partial to just a clean regular looking blade, so it picked the one in the middle and approached her. Don't need anything too fancy after all; it was the use that defined it.  
It made sure to nod, make it look like it was considering the things she had said, grin a little bit too for good measure. It even went the extra step of going to offer a friendly, well intentioned hug.  
It especially wanted to bury the blade in her neck at the little laugh she gave when its hand stopped about thirty odd centimeters from her.  
The craving for blood was apparent in its face even from under the brim of that cap it wore, though the heat of it never seemed to reach her either. And when she took a step forward it took one back.  
“I was sent to find you, you want to kill Me.” she nodded her head side to side, “I can understand that, you don't like to be pinpointed. That's fine. But I say I'm here to help, sent by a mutual contact even, and then you try to knife me?”  
Her eyes focused onto its hand and it started to lower to its side.  
“That's not very sound practice. I thought you were a bit more on the ball than that, Habit.”  
Her expression kept stern to the point of her biting her lip. Even though her voiced lilted like it was at play she didn't seem to want to move much herself.  
“I don't think you're in the best position to be criticising practices.” It began as its hand rolled in its freedom. With confident strides and an unwavering stare it offered her a seat. She didn't spare too much thought at the blood it wore, or the blood on the knives at the table, as she sat.  
“Now, tell me what you know.”  
Habit grinned, running its hand through its hair before readjusting its cap.


	2. X Has Passed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows just as much as Habit, who should put the knife down for now.  
> As its stands she is stuck there.  
> They should think of it as a sleepover.

The sigh she gave was heavy, like she had been carrying it around for long before she had even seen the door to this place.  
“Actually, I have.”  
It gave an incredulous laugh as it laid it hands down on the table, tilting its head to give her a side eye. Asking her to give up the joke. She pursed her lips.  
“No,” it chuckled, “No, no-hoh, you haven’t. How about start with how you _fucking got here_.”  
A laugh wanted to come, but she had to restrain it. There was no sense in provoking it further.  
“Okay,” her hands folded themselves, “here we go. It all started about ten minutes ago when I found myself in front of the door to this house. I got a message on the phone I didn’t know I had, telling me what I told you, from a ‘Firebrand’.”  
When her hands dropped with a shrug Habit drove the knife into the table.  
It leapt from snarling to a laugh as it rose to her side of the table, and then dropped back into a sneer as it leant a little closer.  
“Don’t fuck with me,”  
Shifting to face the ‘host’ she couldn’t find it in herself to not stare Habit in the eyes. It waited for the fear to set into her face, because it always did. Just as it began to creep up to her eyes she pushed it down with a, “What reason do I have to fuck with you? I don’t even know where I am.”  
It shook its head, put on a sickly sweet smile and went to grab hold of her arm.  
“How about with start with _this_ little party trick?” It seethed as its hand was suspended. Following the length of its arm she could see the muscles straining right up to its clenched jaw. Only when it was allowed to tear its hand away did she shrug. The chuckle it gave sat atop a stack of desire to embed a blade in something.  
It ambled a little, not fully taking its attention off of her, while it considered its options. Sure, it could just kick her ass out the door, but when it spared a glance at it... No. Just a look told it that the door had been tampered with. Well, it wasn’t so much a look as it was a feeling. Whatever Firebrand had done, he hadn’t consulted Habit about it.  
“Okay,” it began again, pacing, “Let me see if I've got it all covered then. You,” it punctuated by stepping closer, “just appeared out front about fifteen minutes ago, got a message from our...” It sniggered a little, “‘Mutual Contact’ telling you to help me and...?”  
It prompted, cycling its hands as an invitation, but its mood fell immediately when she only pursed her lips and shrugged.  
“That’s it.”  
It drug a chair around, spinning it so the back faced to her and swung itself on. With its hands resting on the back, and head atop that, it sat comfortably at exact eye height. For show it pulled what it thought was a soft grin on. Perhaps that would convince her to give up the lie. So it waited for a bit, watched her face and let the situation sink in. The girl wasn’t born yesterday. It was confident that given another five minutes that odd little part of the human instinct would kick in and start screaming that the person sitting before her wasn’t, in fact, a person and no, could not and would not help her. Though when it felt the sixth minute pass with no movement on her end it began to question more. Now it was starting to wonder if it should have questioned earlier.  
Leaning just a bit more onto the back of the chair, leaning in a little closer to her face it made sure that it stared right into the eye.  
“So, assuming you expect me to believe all that bullshit, what were you doing before you ‘Arrived’ here?”  
Pulling back, confident in the idea that her actions prior would shiv a hole in the lie and provide a solid base for working out how to remove this little nuisance, it waited.  
She almost wished she was growing short of patience, but knew that deep down there was no reason for her to. What else could be occupying her time right now? Looking to the door the thought rose that leaving wouldn’t really be an option. No matter how she reasoned it, when looking at the door it was the only thought that came to mind. Figuring that stuck was the word of the moment she looked back to Habit.  
“Nothing,” she answered while reaching back into her memory to substantiate the fact. Nothing came to mind but black. No thoughts, no feelings, no ideas. Not even a sense of self, “In the most pure sense of it.”  
Any surprise at her lack of reaction at its roar of a laugh was abandoned. But it couldn’t help itself. The situation was just stupid even to a thing such as itself. Firebrand, the asshole, pulls a girl from fuck-knows-where, drops her onto its doorstep like a present only to be told that it isn’t possible to even touch the damn thing.  
“You’re fucking with me,” it grinned as it clapped its hands together to silence the the build up of protest it could see on her, “But that’s okay. You wanna know why that’s okay?”  
It stood, scooping up a knife and brushing aside the idea of throwing an arm across her shoulder, it knew better. And when she didn’t answer it was more than pleased.  
“Because that means I get the pleasure of breaking you apart to find everything out.”


	3. Sighting the Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a learning curve for sure, and for It she is a nuisance.  
> But it was requested, necessary.

What a learning curve it was, she decided. To go from appearing on a doorstep with nothing but the immediate possessions to being held up in its house. But she had gotten good at it, she had learnt, and had grown pretty comfortable, empty house notwithstanding.  
The kitchen was sub par at best, certainly not stacked for a normal person given the packages of curious meats that she couldn’t bring herself to touch, but perseverance was her word today.  
Digging about netted her bottled water (a score she was pleased with immensely and proceeded to squirrel away in her ‘room’), a few things that described themselves as bars on the wrapper, something that look like a preserve and way back in the corner, a switch blade. It seemed like nothing at first until it popped open and nearly skewered her hand. All these things, and more over time, she had stashed away nearby where she slept.  
This was the routine she had made herself every time it went out. The fact that it could appear at any moment and even more than that, would leave the house empty for what felt like ages at a time, just made it an event that became a little more strategic.  
If it had noticed what she was doing at all it didn’t seem to care. Which was even better, more time for her. Though now, she kept the blade on her at all times. The weight in her hand was grounding.  
It didn’t care that every time she seemed to get even the slightest whiff of its presence she would disappear into the house. Actually, such behavior was quite helpful for the moment. As far as things went she was just a curiosity. Albeit a potentially dangerous simply because it couldn’t touch her, a fact that still made it burn with anger but piqued its interest. But so long as she stayed in the house it was fine. It was sure she would because even looking at the door now told it that it was still tampered with, she was a secret.  
Despite the girl shaped wrench-in-the-works it found itself grinning. It would be entertaining a guest this evening, it wanted to look good, presentable, decent. A smile was always a start to that. Beyond that though it seemed to forget that it had blood splattered on its face, arms, and shirt.  
When it pulled out the whiteboard, nearly throwing it on the table, a new little idea wormed its way into existence. It found itself looking up the stairs and reaching its hearing. Waiting for a moment gave no clear existence of life but it knew better and ascended the stairs.  
As per usual there was no sound coming from her room save for the light breaths. For a moment it considered considering the idea of knocking. Until it decided something along the lines of fuck that, it was in its own house, and threw the door open.  
“Good evening. I’ve got something I need you to do.”  
Looking up at the Habit shape and stuffing away the immediate curiosity she waited for it to continue, choosing to ignore the generous amount of condescension in its tone.  
“I’m expecting a guest. Just a kid really, but we’ve got important matters to discuss. Anyway, I need to you sit on the stairs, just at the top, think you can manage that?”  
It took progressively less and less energy to stop the puzzled frown each time she heard it talk. Instead she put that energy to better use by getting up, walking past it and popping the ‘p’ on her nope. It muttered something about her being a sarcastic bitch, to which she found herself nodding along with once she sat down.  
“Did the pizza come yet?”  
Habit stepped over her and nearly leapt down the stairs.  
“Even if it had, why would I tell you?” it peaked through the window by the front door quickly.  
She knew it couldn’t see her shrug as it swung around to sit at the table but it could hear her when she chastised it for unhostly behavior.  
“I’m only a good host when it comes to _wanted_ guests.”  
She turned to sit horizontally on the step, leg up on the wall, and laughed to herself as the texter cap popped.  
“So you want me to die of starvation?” She called down, pulling her little blade from her pocket and fidgeting with it, “You’re okay with having a fetid corpse in your house?”  
For a moment she considered going back to her room, the idea of one of those bars seemed at least somewhat appealing. But her stomach was silent enough and the wall was giving a nice stretch to her back.  
After a moment or two it seemed that she hadn’t called down loud enough because there was only slight squeeks of marker on board and light sniggering.  
“Well,” it started with a gentle smack of the texter on the table, “If that happens to be the only way you die, I wont complain!” after which it spoke to itself, something about taking a knife and she ignored it from that point on. When it went to check the door it made sure she didn’t miss the glare it gave. Even deliberately avoiding the bulk of eye contact, she still suffered from a chill down her spine.   
“Besides, you wouldn’t be the first, the last or the best looking corpse in my house.” Its expression split into a slow deliberate grin. It didn’t press her to look because it knew that she saw. Probably because of the jarring shudder and goosebumbs that developed. The image of it was in her mind regardless. She preferred the glare.  
A soft click told her it had gone back to doodling but the chill didn’t leave her. As a result her eyes wandered over the relatively bland house. It was never a topic she was bold enough to touch on, but the house looked lived in in a way that a murder of Habits kind wouldn’t be able to replicate. In the right lighting, it looked like the walls used to be home to pictures. The amount of rooms in the house too suggested that at the very least a young couple had lived here. Though beyond this speculation, and their probable messy end, she couldn’t find her self caring an awful lot despite wanting to. Should that be concerning? That was beyond her as well.  
When her stare traveled across the roof, down the railing of the stairs and to the door a smiliar almost intimidating feeling crept into her mind. The door was still dodgy, though where it once felt black like a shadow, like space, it now gave the image of a burning purple. It still didn’t seem like something to tamper with, and if anything was more welcoming beforehand.  
It was in her idle thoughts that a lanky young man stumbled through, awestruck and dazed, camera in hand. Habit made a point of closing and locking the door while giving the gentlest suggestion to sit down. Well, the gentlest she had seen from it.  
It wasn’t until ‘Noah’s first ‘Fuck You’ to Habit did she realise that she was holding her breath, but still she held it in until forced to exhale it slowly. She knew that it would be far safer, and smarter, to stay still but couldn’t help herself to peak out ever so slightly.  
The guy, Noah, seemed to illicit the friendliest response she had ever imagined from Habit. To the point where watching the exchange was almost uncomfortable. There was, of course, its usual mile wide streak of being an asshole, but it seemed somewhat clipped for this guy.  
On top of all this, he was probably the first live person she had seen in what felt like.... Ever. Beyond appearing on Habits door she had no memories of anybody. Even now thinking too much on that topic made an ache rumble in her head. It wasn’t a practice she undertook often.  
Habit eventually asked him to draw a symbol, or what it called a rune. But the word sat awkwardly. Noah seemed aprehensive, but didn’t want to contend with its grin and complied. He complied rather shittily at first, and she could see why. The boy had no understanding of this she figured, while pushing aside queries of how she could possibly know any better.  
Habit grew irritated, which was evidenced by the roll of its die. She had seen it play around with it before. Usually followed by shrieking and the like. Her mood dropped. Leave it to Habit to kill the first interesting thing in the house.  
Making sure to let her leg slowly reach the floor she began to quietly stand until a colour to the air grabbed and held her attention down. It was grey, uncertain, but tugged at something in her.  
“Fuckin’ fantastic!”  
Habit smothered a cackle, grinning down at the whiteboard.  
“Okay, so what is it?”  
She found herself leaning closer to the railing, itching for an explanation and wasn’t entirely disappointed. Explaining it to Noah made it more careful of its words, explaining that ‘I can’t take it as an insult, you just don’t understand.’  
She found herself falling into the explanation, feeling fragments stick into her mind. Even still, much of its explanation seemed fabricated to get Noah off its back for the topic. He seemed to accept it however. Its exploitation for its use was typical of it, though. ‘Shiv ‘em in the neck’? a sour laugh nearly fell out of her. That was familiar, even if it hadn’t been said before. Other lines she recalled were along the lines of ‘salt your fucking lungs’ and ‘cook one of your eyes while you watch’, just to name a few. It wasn’t quite the same as hearing it in person. Through a wall a lot of the emphasis was lost.  
She didn’t become aware of the coughing until the scraping of the chair nearly made her fall down the stairs.  
“Is that Vinnie?”  
Not too long after a door opened, Habit began to ‘insist’ that Noah leave and took that as a cue to leave for the shadows of the hall behind her. As she prepared to peek out again Noah rattled the door, only to have Habit kick him off the porch.


	4. Sucked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the hunger did get to her after all.   
> Habits teasing doesn't help

Pizza came and went and Habit made a show of eating it.

There was no point in trying to ask for some even though it only seemed to eat it with a forced smug grin. The sight of the food did aggravate her hunger though, there was only so much satisfaction to be gained from watching it force pieces into its mouth.

“Maybe I would have shared with you, if you stayed right where I said. But you moved,” The shrug it gave was exaggerated, shoulders reaching its ears, with a dramatic eye roll, “Now you go hungry, that’s a shame.”

From the base of the stairs she scoffed. It would have been called shaking her head in disbelief if she had expected different behaviour. Instead she idled, clicking the blade.

“Damn, sorry I wanted to make sure ‘Noah’ wouldn’t see me.” she chanced a glace at Habit, setting her head on her palm, but quickly retreated her stair to the glint of the light in the knife.

“He wouldn’t have seen you,” it stated upon swallowing, “I wouldn’t have let ‘im.”

It missed the eye roll she gave as it scrutinised the box for the next slice. Such a hard choice for one who wouldn’t eat under other circumstances. One gross substance over another was just picking the lesser of two gross, slimy evils.

The look it shoot her, narrow and daring like a child teasing for another to ‘do it already’, was missed entirely. The soft sound of the blade had stopped too. Closing the box almost too eagerly it caught the vacant stare that was creeping up on her face. The only thing stopping her from folding over her knees was her arm that propped up her head. The other hand held the knife, almost pointing it toward the floor, but her focus was trained on it.

“What are you doing? Starvation hit you?” When she didn’t respond it rose from the chair and stood before her. It contemplated kicking the knife from her hand, maybe that would wake her up, but when it shifted its weight slightly to do so her hand snapped, pointing it toward its feet.

“What was that... thing? The thing you asked the guy to draw?”

Habit scoffed. This bitch.

“Does it even matter to you?”

The shrug she gave was limp, more like a shitty puppeteer had twitched at strings halfheartedly than anything intentional.

“It was grey, it seemed grey at least. Still does.”

Crouching down before her let it her the mumbling a bit clearer, and see her glazed eyes. She didn’t register the soft ‘hm’ it gave, nor the tapping it did on its thigh.

“The air around it is like... Its falling over itself to get away from itself.”

Habit gave an amused huff as it stood again to return to its pizza. Shaking its head, inadvertently shifted its hat. It would have been annoyed at having to adjust it again if it was necessary.

“Its a Sigil isn’t it,”

“It’s a what?” it laughed, pivoting on a heel and settling the hat.

“It is,” she stated clicking the blade back and closing her fist around it, “It’s a Sigil you got Noah to draw. It’s grey, and it pulls things apart from what they belong with, or want to be with, or are..stuck to, bound to.”

It stooped a little once it got close enough and made sure to look her in the still glassy eyes. Its grin, the kind that urged people to tell the truth because the alternative would be worse, fell when she seemed to wake up and meet its gaze.

“Now how do you know that?” Her brows arched slightly, making her eyes look lidded and sleepy as they came back to focus.

“It’s what you told Noah,” she pulled back from it, popping the blade in and out again. It chuckled, shaking its head and grinning.

“Oh no, no no. Get up,” it gestured and pulled out the seat. When she complied it leaned on the table, between the whiteboard where it sat prior and her.

“What is this _sigil_ shit, huh?” it sneered.

“Well, that’s what it is, isn’t it? Much more than a symbol, more than a rune, a Sigil. ‘Magic’ like you said. Purveys meaning.” her lips pursed unsure of what it wanted to hear. Habit leaned a little closer down before spinning the whiteboard to face her.

“You know something,” it grinned as she grumbled under her breath, “No you do, because I never used the word _sigil_ and I sure as shit never called it _grey_.” It wanted to rip the face she pulled off. Acting like she didn’t know was almost insulting.

“Well, I mean, it is grey. Just look at it,” she gestured at the air around it a bit before settling, “Shits grey.”

It followed the path her arms set and smiled before looking back at her.

“The fuck do you mean ‘its grey’?” Habit stepped back from the table and leaned against the wall. It could see it too, the severance in the air about it. Grey was an apt descriptor, insofar as using human terms to make an abstract definition for the even more abstract. But it wanted the reasoning, she had to show her work.

“I _mean_ its grey.” she huffed and turned to look at it again, trying to piece together the information that would help her articulate its meaning, “Grey like... fog I guess. Sort of. The things about it are still there, but there's this layer of... well in this case magic I guess,” she grimaced at the word, “blocking everything else.”

As she stared at the drawing, ignoring the fact that Habits grin grew to Cheshire proportions, the words tumbled out. To say that Habit was pleased wouldn’t be doing it justice. Her explanation grew more abstract, worthy of a philosophy essay or similar. In that words fell out describing how this rune, sigil rather, when done right, with the right intentions, could rip things apart at a truly base level.

Before more theoretics could waterfall out of her it snatched the whiteboard from out of her line of site, letting her go back to fiddling with her blade after a moment.

“Now _that_ was some poetic shit,” it chortled as she frowned down at the switchblade. It started nodding to itself about something she didn’t have it in her to care about right now. With a head that groaned with the same fuzziness that mark put into the air, and eyes that still had it etched into them, she didn’t feel like she could care much about anything.

“For that, you can have a slice if you want,” it put on a parental voice that was probably supposed to come across as condescending but it rolled off of the ache in her head.

Pizza sounded nice though.


	5. Alice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for that favor, it seems.

The silence ate at the house while she ate the slice of pizza. There were anchovies. She decided quickly that she didn’t like anchovies. Picking them off would be too much effort at the moment though, so she powered through the odd little toppings.

Each bite only antagonised a rising ill feeling. It couldn’t be pinpointed to one source, but for the moment she blamed the thrumming ache in her head. Ignoring the fact that it felt like her bones rumbled along with each pulse and that her chest seemed to tingle with breath. Especially ignoring the slight haze that still shimmered above the table that seemed to just tease and irk the drumming trying to shake her body.

It didn’t help that Habit had excused itself to another room to make what she could only call ‘far too much noise’ too soon after everything had settled to the silence. Clangs of metal on metal, metal on wood, metal on unidentified surfaces, and something that sounded blunt on something with a bit of give.

Try as one might to drown out the world with pizza, it only worked so well, which is to say, not at all. Every connection one item made to another made her skull feel personally offended.

Had it not returned to the room shortly after the noises stopped some quiet celebration would have occurred.

When it strode in, all grins behind the blood and under the shadow of its cap, she noted that its hands looked markedly empty. Especially as it swept them open as it stood before her.

“You can go,” it beamed.

The slice was slowly dropped.

It didn’t shift as she quirked her gaze in doubt. After a few more moments of neither receiving anything from the other it made a show of groaning and swinging the door open.

She made no move to rise but instead looked at Habit. It wasn’t the kindest of creatures, so perhaps it did think so lowly of her intelligence. Though, even after a few moments of looking at the door that radiated that burning purple again, she had to concede, it never said where.

“Go?” Her eyes narrowed while it stood with a creeping grin, “Why would I go out that when a boy just stumbled through it?”

Its voice lowered just a little, enough to make it a hiss through the teeth as it rolled its eyes.

“Well he stumbled outta it just fine, didn’t he?”

“You kicked him.”

The chuckle it gave was warm as it looked up in fondness for a moment, replaying it as its grin softened. Its laugh settled into a relatively pleased ‘Yeah’ before it turned back to her.

“Either way, kids fine. Just,” it made a slow deliberate gesture, “Go.”

Awareness pricked at the air behind her, a slightly burning one. Looking over her shoulder, at the door where the coughing man was, confirmed that it was a burning purple too.

“I’m guessing I don’t have a choice,” the statement was meant more for herself as she reached for the knife in her pocket.

“Of course you do,” grinned Habit, “It’s not like I can _force_ you or anything.”

Flicking the blade out as she rolled her eyes the beginnings of a ‘fuck you’ built in her throat. The peculiar heat of the doors reminded her to keep it quelled, so instead she stood.

“So, if I was to go through this door here,” she turned a little to point behind her, where no coughing came from, making sure to watch its face, “I’ll just end up partying with your little 'pilgrim' friend then?”

She wasn’t happy when its face slowly dropped, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t at least a somewhat pleasing sight, especially as its jaw tensed for just a moment. That slight amusement began to fade as its jovial body language began to turn stony. Its nigh perpetual motion halted with the cool regard its inclined stare gave.

“What do you see?”

The grow that slunk from it gave her a jolt that pricked at her skin hard thanks to the scenario.

“The doors,” it pressed, “what do you see?”

Giving a quick shake of the head and flick of the knife to set herself she explained the burning purple, looking past it to the door, that it glowed in the hinges of the door and tinted the paint, that she saw it before Noah arrived and noticed when it wasn’t there.

After second to think on what it had been told it nodded.

“Well, you're right,” its usual, and what she thought to be mocking, grin didn’t return. It was instead replaced with a malicious grin, one that she couldn’t help but think as predatory, “You don’t have a choice. But think of it more as a.... Favour, to me.”

It drew a little closer, closing the front door behind it and disregarding the sneer she gave.

“You even get a choice of door! Though it doesn’t really matter, they all lead to the same place.”

A wince pricked at her from the inside at what it had left unsaid. Sometimes that was worse, the smug satisfaction that it knew. From its perch that seemed to see everything, it _knew_. And it knew when it came about a meter away it halted for just enough time to notice the tension that crept up her body, and it would still long after.

The blood on its face was clear, much clearer than before. She could see the clots, how it had settled into the skin. The proximity was a bit much. Seeing it across the room, hearing it through the halls… That she had gotten used to. But now she could feel its eyes roll over her, dissecting. Its smile didn’t falter but she could see it strain. And then it stepped forward.

She stepped back.

It took another.

She could feel the push that weighed in the centre of her chest, like a fist was balled on her sternum. It kept forcing the steps up until the doorknob pushed into her side. Seeming pleased with its work it stepped back, bringing the pressure with it.

“And if I don’t go?”

She could feel the house light up purple as she spoke while her hope doused at the realisation. The last thing she wanted was to undertake a favour.

It only laughed.

“Right, well,” she turned to the door behind her, not letting her back face Habit because she just didn’t have it in her, before she opened the door, “If I must.”

Black yawned in front of her. Not even an outline of the previous bathroom could be imagined. Her eyes narrowed accusingly at the dark before opening wide. There couldn’t have been any light there at all, it was like the light in the room behind fled, or just stopped all together at the doorframe.

There was a tug, and then she couldn’t see.


	6. Which Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its a bit of a lash out, really. Hanging around with less than pleasant company, though can't force something that isn't there to begin with.

Whatever it was that caught her fall didn’t do it expertly, but was thankfully cool enough to ease the sting of the landing and the cackle that accompanied her. 

“Nice trip, y’fucking dumbass.” a stomp resounded by her face. It startled her enough to bring back the ever present aggravation and the motivation to get up.  
“I didn’t trip.”   
It didn’t seem to care even remotely, leaving her sitting in what she recognised felt like grass to dust herself off and pick herself up.

“Hurry up already,” it called from somewhere that seemed much too far away for her to actually hear, let alone see, “you're no good to me on the ground. And open your eyes already.”  
Its sudden closeness made her leap up, but it was still pitch black everywhere.   
The air hummed, nearly laughing, mocking, and thrumming around her ears. It too, told her to open her eyes, but not in the same way Habit did. It was coaxing. Telling her ‘look, its beautiful here, you want to see, come see’ and it worked.   
She wanted to see, because anywhere with humming, thrumming air had to be an interesting place at least worth a quick look-see. There was nowhere else that she could immediately recall with this much energy and intrigue just on the air. It was welcoming, in a way, and it highlighted and eroded that small part of her that she didn’t even pick up on. It warned against listening, the part that wanted something else, something different, something other than this.   
So she opened her eyes. 

“It’s about damn time,” Habit grinned before her, highlighted in a glowing yellow, “Got shit to do, c’mon.”  
In following she found that everything was still dark, but a lively dark. The shadows were everywhere, beating back the small pockets of light to the point where they were more for mood than necessity, and the light gave no retaliation. It had its place, she figured.   
Habit moved differently too, smoother. There was always purpose to its steps, to every glance, but it surveyed this place keenly. Everything its eyes moved to held its attention for just a little longer and drew the soft yellow of a giddy grin. Its grin, if you could believe it, while just as vicious as always, was softer. There was no edgde to the grin that promised immediate violence, just violence to come.   
It was always a confident creature, but now it seemed to be even more so. As the thought passed she wondered if a creature like Habit could be anything more than at ease, comfortable in its skin, even though it seemed to be.  
It wasn’t hard for her to see why it was this way either. The shadows seemed to be ecstatic at its presence, as much as shadows could. Insofar as any other place she had seen it, here Habit seemed far more involved.   
As she followed, passing a building that sang and roared, and seeing various other places through bars and gaps, the air still talked in the way that air seemed inclined to. That is to say, it doesn’t. Rather it brings around messages that have always been. With each passing of its message she found herself agreeing more and more, this place was absolutely invigorating. 

“Alrighty,” she halted abruptly when Habit hauled a chair out from the shadows, “you don't seem to be going batshit insane, so I need you to do a little something for me.”  
It brought its hands together and gazed around a little, letting its shoulder wrack from an unheard chuckle.  
“There are a few little pests, running around here. I’m going to deal with them. But if you happen to come across one well...” it rolled its hands over, “just tell ‘em to come to the bridge, ‘kay? ‘Kay.”   
It stalked off with a grin, so she turned the other way and wandered. There was no point in to turning to check how far she had ended up going. There were far more interesting things stretching out in front on a constant shift of not-quite-following-logic.   
It felt more as though that the world itself was juggling her, as opposed to her actually moving anywhere under her own power.  
That was when she saw a tiny little shadow in the distance come closer rapidly.   
As quickly as it approached it vanished, that in itself wasn’t surprising to her now, but she felt her jaw ache when seeing them run. That was enough to cause her to halt and think. At least for a moment, before she found herself dissolving in the surroundings.  
But it happened again, the shadows parted to let out the startled running figure. It held her attention longer. Slowly, a burn rose in her chest. And as soon as the shadow came it left, taking the burn with it.  
The shadows kept moving her to the figure, revealing it again and again only to have them disappear. Each time they came a bit closer. Each time they became a bit more audible, though that was quickly revealed it to be a bit of a useless facet of knowledge, more an amusement. They were only capable of repeating odd little mantras in the face of everything they saw.   
This kept up, regardless of where she thought she tried to walk, until they ran into her.  
She didn’t bat an eye at the fact that they were sent to the ground from the nudge, but she did register the slight laugh that happened when she was able to look down at them in the yellowing light.   
The poor lad was spooked half to death. His heart ran harder in his chest to the point where it was possible his legs were envious if they could care through he fatigue, or at all. He looked too young, too... Unfitting to be where they were.   
Some sick little part of her mind relished in the panic that grew on his face when he looked up and registered her face. When that part resulted in a curious little lean forward the air hissed a little bit around their ears.   
‘Go to the bridge.’  
And she repeated the message.   
It didn’t take long for the boy to scramble up, and even less time for him to skitter away. But she took her sweet time in tailing him.  
Every time he shrunk out of sight the shadows would shudder, part and he would be back again, throwing a look over his shoulder. No matter the distance his panic was evident. His pace would pick up for a moment or two, but each time he got a little slower.   
Each time she got a little closer. Eventually the shadows didn’t have to part because the boy just couldn’t run anymore. He slumped to the ground.   
On her approach she rolled the boy over with a slight push from her foot. With a back to the ground he was welcomed by a cold expression just clear enough from the shadows. His breaths were dry and heaving and any colour his face could have held was drowned in the red.   
His mouth gaped a little, like he was trying to form a sentence, before that too was given up. He was left prone before her, only able to watch.   
When he found himself rising to his knees he tried to struggle.   
He thought he had a chance when he noticed the terse expression on her face until he sagged forward again.  
It became clear that struggle was pointless when she gripped his shoulders and forced him up. 

“Couldn’t find the bridge?” She muttered, not caring if an answer was even capable of being heard amidst the panting.   
With a gentle dust of his shoulders, and a slow climb to his neck he died with a taught snap, falling unceremoniously to the blackened grass.


End file.
